Zander put his hand over mine. “Thank you. I love you, Jay.”
“I love you, too, Zander. Whatever happens, I’m so glad we’re in it together.”
We were enjoying a lingering and very satisfactory kiss when the nanomites announced, Jayda Cruz, Zander Cruz, Rob Tellerman’s nanobug array reports that someone left a handwritten note on his desk. Here it is.
As Zander and I pulled apart, I muttered, “Best timing ever, Nano.”
Thank you, Jayda Cruz. “A word spoken in due season, how good is it!”
I shook my head. Oh, brother.
Zander and I studied the message together.
I have information on the disappearance of W.O. Meet me tonight, 11 p.m., Little Paint Branch Trail. Come alone. I need help. PLEASE.
“Little Paint Branch Trail? Hey, isn’t that the same location as in the text Danforth intended for us to intercept?”
We believe it to be a second facet of Danforth’s ploy, Zander Cruz: the text is to draw you to the park, the message dropped on Rob Tellerman’s desk is to draw the FBI agents.
“But why them? Why send them to the same place they are sending us?”
We can answer your question, Jayda Cruz.
“Spill it, Nano.”
Danforth summoned his lead SPO, Johnson, to his office this morning. This is the police officer who stands post at the elevator on the executive floor. Danforth tasked him with ambushing the FBI agents in the park tonight.
I was stunned. “What? He’s going to have them killed? While we’re there?”
Danforth’s exact words were, “Take three others. Hide yourselves ahead of time. Do not allow yourselves to be detected. Remain hidden until you are certain they were not followed. Dispatch them quickly, then leave the area. Text me when it’s done.”
Me again: “Isn’t Danforth concerned that we’ll intervene and stop the attack?”
We believe it is his desire that you do so. Danforth added these cryptic instructions, “Listen up, Johnson. If anyone or anything interferes with you tonight, do not stand your ground. Withdraw immediately and report to me.”
Zander: “So, let me see if I’ve got this right . . . Danforth knows Kiera and Rob are FBI, but supposedly, we don’t know they are. As far as Danforth is concerned, we only ‘know’ what he wants us to know: that Kiera and Rob will have Overman’s remains.”
Me: “But Danforth doesn’t figure that Kiera and Rob having the evidence in their possession will be enough to flush us out. He expects us to show up tonight, but he figures we might just sit on our hands and wait for Kiera and Rob to bury the evidence before we act.”
Zander was scarcely breathing. “Which they won’t do since they don’t actually have Overman’s remains.”
Me: “Right. So, Danforth sends in his dirty SPOs to ambush Kiera and Rob, hoping the attack will goad us into action. He doesn’t care if we save Kiera and Rob—he only cares that we expose ourselves—which would prove to him that we are monitoring all his communications. Whew. It’s kind of confusing.”
It is a convoluted plan, Jayda Cruz.
“That’s putting it mildly.”
Zander bent a crafty look in my direction. “What if we were to convolute it further? What if we flip the game on them, Jayda?”
“Do tell.”
“We have the reconstructed surveillance video proving that the SPOs took Overman from the NSA compound. I wonder what would happen if this crooked head SPO, Johnson, received revised instructions? Say, a text similar to the one Danforth sent Kiera and Rob? The nanomites can identify Johnson’s number and send him the revised orders, and make it look like the message came from Danforth’s phone.”
“If the SPOs took the bait and followed instructions . . .”
“They would show up tonight when we told them to arrive—say, ten p.m. They would arrive with all the evidence necessary to nail them to the wall.”
“How do you propose we handle them? We can’t arrest them.”
“No, but that’s the beautiful part. We’ll have a little chat with Kiera and Rob beforehand. We tell them that their NSA covers are blown anyway, so they should make the bust. Once they have the SPOs in custody, they can pressure them to flip on Danforth.”
I stared with admiration. “You are so devious.”
“Hey, I learned from the best.”
I giggled.
We are ready to send such a text, Zander Cruz.
Zander and I read it first.
change of plans
move WO remains
2200 hours
same location.
ambush after
“The SPOs are to show up at ten o’clock to bury the evidence and stick around to ambush Kiera and Rob at eleven,” Zander said. “I like it.”
“It’s perfect, Nano,” I agreed.
Text sent, Jayda and Zander Cruz.
THE ONLY POSSIBLE FLAW in our plan was if Danforth’s people no longer had Overman’s remains, if they’d already found a permanent disposal site for them. Once the text went out, we stayed glued to the nanobug arrays I’d planted on the SPOs.
While we waited, we talked contingencies, and I said, “Our ploy is a shot in the dark. If Danforth’s men have already disposed of Overman’s remains, then our double cross is no good; all we can do is make sure Kiera and Rob don’t walk into an ambush. But if the SPOs still have Overman’s remains . . . ”
“Then we have them,” Zander finished. “Yes, it’s a shot in the dark, but considering they are going after our family? I’ll take that chance.”
We waited, and we listened. Within the hour the nanobug array transmitted the audio of Johnson’s call to his team.
“Change of plans. We’ve been ordered to move Overman’s remains. We bury them tonight, 2200 hours, same place as the other assignment at 2300.”
“I think they’re safer where they are.”
“You aren’t paid to think, Mitchell. Get them ready and meet up at 2200 hours.”
“Beauty,” Zander breathed. “This might actually work!”
We decided that Gamble needed to know what we had planned—and that the President needed to know, too. Zander made the call, put it on speaker and, predictably, we got an earful.
“Dang it, Zander! You weren’t authorized to take action without prior approval. The legal ramifications could ruin any hope of prosecution.”
He went off on a tangent and, in my mind’s eye, I could see Gamble stomping up and down Trujillo’s hospital room, berating us. I reminisced, too, how I’d once wanted to call him Agent Grumble to his face.
Zander interrupted his rant. “Agent Gamble, we don’t have the luxury of waiting until all the dominoes magically line up just right when it is our family that is in jeopardy. Please advise the President that this is going down tonight—and let him know that the FBI will soon have his friend’s remains in their custody.”
We hung up and made another call. I handled this one. “Mal? Ripley here. How would you like to help take down the traitor who killed Mulder and trashed your clubhouse?”
His response was gratifying. “Where, when, and how many of my peeps do I bring?”
After we had finalized Malware’s part in tonight’s activities, Zander and I spent the rest of the day monitoring Rob’s array. He and Kiera planned for her to show up at Rob’s apartment at seven, so we waited across from Rob’s apartment until Kiera arrived and went inside.
Then we knocked on the door.
I stifled a laugh at the sudden silence that ensued—silence followed by careful creeping toward the peephole.
“Hey Rob? Kiera? It’s Jayda Cruz—and my husband, Zander.”
Jayda Cruz, your friends appear to be in a state of panic and indecision.
“You mean they’re freaking out? Yeah, I would imagine they are.”
I spoke aloud again. “Hey, Rob? Kiera? Talking through the door isn’t helpful. We need to brief you on your, er, appointment tonight. The one at eleven.”
The d
oor cracked open, and Rob peeked out.
“How do you know about that? You haven’t been at work all week.”
“Yeah, my NSA cover is cooked. I won’t be coming back.”
“Then how do you know about the note on my desk?”
“We do, and that’s all you need to know. Come on, man. Let us in. We need to brief you on tonight’s fun and games.”
He slowly swung the door open. Kiera was behind him, her sidearm drawn but pulled into her chest.
“You won’t need that, Kiera. We’re on your side.”
“Frankly, we don’t know what you are.”
I laughed. “Okay, I’ve earned that.”
As Rob closed the apartment door, I handled the introductions. “Rob, Kiera, this is my husband, Zander. Zander, FBI agents Kiera and Rob—likely not their real names. You guys have already met Special Agent Gamble. I believe he vouched for me?”
“Warned us off, you mean.”
“Good enough. So, listen, here’s the deal: Lawrence Danforth is a traitor.”
Kiera interrupted. “Lawrence Danforth as in NSA Deputy Director Lawrence Danforth?”
“The one and only. We’re not going to take a deep dive into all the specifics, but we do have proof that he had Wayne Overman killed—and isn’t that what the FBI embedded you undercover at the NSA to investigate?”
“You say you have proof?”
“We’ll do you one better: We’ll give you the proof. A group of NSA security police officers answer directly to Danforth. They are as dirty as he is. They did the deed at his direction and removed Overman from the NSA complex the evening he disappeared.”
Kiera slid her gun into a shoulder holster and frowned. “Exactly how do you know all this?”
“How we know what we’re telling you is not as important as the evidence is. We’d like to hand that evidence over to you—legally and all nice and neat with a bow on top.”
“We’re listening.”
“The message you received asking you to meet someone tonight, someone asking for your help? That note was Danforth’s creative fiction. He expects you to show up at that park—where he’s arranged a little welcoming party for you.”
“That *bleeping bleep*!”
“Yeah. He gave orders for his dirty SPOs to ambush you.”
Rob interjected, “So what do we do about that? What’s your plan?”
“Well . . . this is where it gets, er, dicey. You’ll have to take our word for what I say next.”
Kiera folded her arms. “Talk. We’ll decide if we believe you.”
“All right. Here it is: First, Danforth suspects that Zander and I are monitoring his communications. Well, we are, which is why we know so much. Anyway, he sent a text that he expected we would read—which we did.”
“Wait. This is confusing.”
“Tell me about it. Anyway, here’s the text he sent for us to intercept.”
I held out my phone and the nanomites made the text appear on it.
direct colón tellerman
move WO remains
2300 hours
39.0397° N 76.9341° W
“What the *blank*? Direct us to move Overman’s remains? We’re FBI! We didn’t kill him. This makes no sense.”
“Hold on a sec; let us explain. The text was intended for us, right? It only makes sense if you keep that in mind. Danforth doesn’t think we know you’re undercover FBI. He doesn’t realize that we’re way ahead of him, that we’ve known you’re FBI for a while now. By the way, all this means Danforth knows you’re FBI, too.”
Kiera and Rob exchanged confounded looks.
“Are you certain?”
“Well, sure. It’s the reason he had someone drop that note on Rob’s desk this morning. He wants you off his back.”
“But the text you intercepted?”
“Was to lure us, too. Kind of a two-fer.”
Kiera and Rob lapsed into silence.
I pressed ahead. “Like I said, Danforth gave face-to-face instructions to Johnson, his head SPO, to ambush you this evening—but we’ve flipped the game. We sent a text to the same SPO with a change of plans.”
I again showed them my phone, and the nanomites displayed their message.
change of plans
move WO remains
2200 hours
same location
ambush after
“You sent this text? If you sent it, how does that convince Johnson that Danforth sent it?”
“As you may have suspected, I have cutting-edge tech at my fingertips, proprietary, uh, hardware not on the market. Sure, you can buy cheap software that enables you to spoof a phone’s number, but the hack is easily spotted and traced. My hack leaves zero trace. Johnson is convinced my text came from Danforth, and no program, skill, expertise, or tool in existence could prove otherwise.”
Rob’s techy heart was salivating. “Whatever it is you’ve got, I want some of it.”
Kiera waved his comment aside. “You’re saying Danforth gave the order to have Overman killed, the SPOs removed Overman from the NSA, and now they think Danforth has ordered them to move his remains and bury them in the park this evening at ten o’clock.”
“And ambush you at eleven, as per the original instructions.”
“It’s been months since Overman vanished. What makes you think Danforth’s people haven’t already gotten rid of the body?”
I shrugged. “It was a risky supposition that could have backfired on us. The good news is that we’ve been monitoring the SPOs’ communications since we sent the text. They bought into it and are following their ‘orders.’ You will catch them flat-footed with the evidence in hand—and with their arrest comes the strong possibility that they will flip on Danforth. After all, treason is a federal crime that carries the penalty of death by lethal injection. Johnson and his team might be willing to bargain down to life in federal lockup.”
I added emphasis to my last point, the enticing part: “You two will crack the most notable case of the year. Maybe this decade.”
Kiera slid her eyes toward Rob. “We would need backup. Big-time backup.”
“But you don’t have enough time to sell the idea to your superiors.”
Kiera nodded. “I don’t even know how we’d explain it to them—not without them ordering us to get a psych eval first.”
“Then it’s a good thing we have backup on speed dial.”
Chapter 31
DANFORTH ARRIVED AT his office earlier than usual Thursday morning. He was satisfied that he’d rid himself of the FBI’s undercover snoops, and cautiously optimistic regarding the security of his communications. He glanced once more at the text Johnson had sent late last night.
Done
No interference
He laughed under his breath. Jayda and Zander Cruz and their nanomites weren’t as omnipresent as he and the woman had been led to believe. Mr. and Mrs. Cruz hadn’t shown up last night, which meant they hadn’t intercepted the text he’d planted to draw them out.
A second mark on the plus side, Johnson and his team had eliminated those thorns in Danforth’s side, the two FBI agents planted at the NSA. He expected a third bit of good news momentarily when the team in Albuquerque called to confirm that they had acquired three people Jayda and Zander Cruz cherished.
He sighed with satisfaction. The Albuquerque team should already be on the road to Las Cruces to add Zander Cruz’s parents to their collection—and soon he and the woman would have the troublesome Jayda and Zander Cruz in their hands.
His gratification lasted all of five minutes.
The burner he used to communicate with Johnson here in D.C. and with the woman’s team in Albuquerque vibrated in his drawer. He pulled it out and answered it, confident in the good news the Albuquerque team would report.
“Yes?”
“You have a leak.”
Danforth frowned. “Explain.”
“The targets—all three of them—vanished before we got to them. Nob
ody knows where they are. Someone tipped them off.”
Danforth was too stunned to answer.
“Did you hear me?”
“I—yes, I heard.”
“We’re not going to take the heat for this failure, get me? The leak isn’t on our end.”
Danforth’s misgiving raced toward a deduction he very much disliked.
“Go on to Las Cruces and acquire the other targets. Report to me as soon as you set eyes on them.”
He hung up and rehearsed the time and place he and the woman had discussed the abduction. Talking aloud to himself, he said, “Her exact words were, ‘You will create that distraction for me, Lawrence. I wish you to locate Mr. and Mrs. Cruz’s closest family and loved ones. Not too many. Gemma Keyes’ elderly neighbor and his foster child and Zander Cruz’s sister and parents should do. Sweep them up and spirit them away.’
“We were within the shielded facility when she said that. She and I did not speak of it outside the facility. I said nothing about the plan until I called her team in Albuquerque.”
Danforth glared at the burner, a suspicion blooming in his thoughts. Could Jayda or Zander Cruz have bugged this phone? Listened in on my call to Albuquerque? How else could they have known and warned their friends?
He was still holding the burner when he remembered the text Johnson had sent last night—to the same phone.
Done
No interference
He lurched to his feet, stumbled to his office door, and looked toward the elevator bank: Johnson, who should have come on shift at eight, was conspicuously absent from his post.
Danforth’s secretary had just arrived and was putting her desk in order.
“Have you seen Johnson today?”
Her head swiveled toward the elevator bank. “Oh. I hadn’t noticed, but he’s not here yet.”
“I can see that. Was he here earlier?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I only just got here myself.”
Danforth returned to his office and fired off a message:
Where are you?
Ten minutes later, as Danforth was starting to really worry, the response came back.
Deep State Stealth Page 34
